“If I understand this correctly,” Jack said at last, looking at Cashman, “a secret Soviet project was begun several decades ago that was designed to infiltrate the political system of the United States along with industry, financial, and other areas of influence as well, and all from within by planting a dozen young couples over here after World War II to raise their children and grandchildren toward a single end. The purpose of which,” he paused to take another sip from the mug, “was to ultimately place one of their people inside the Oval Office. Once there they would capitulate, for lack of a better term, to the Soviet Union and form one communist mega-superpower?”
“That is how I read it also,” Norman agreed.
“But the bottom line is this, all that we really know from these documents comes from the Russian side of this operation. We don’t know who these people became once they got here or who is running the show over here right now. For that matter, we have no idea what their goal is now given that the Soviet Union they were working for no longer exists. Are they looking to just take over this county now or are they hoping they can also resurrect the old USSR at the same time.”
“That is all very true,” Norman replied wryly.
“Maybe you should tell me now exactly how you came to be in possession of these files, as well as exactly how you managed to end up on my brother’s boat tonight when you are supposed to be in Atlanta.”
“Vlade Karpov was an old adversary from my CIA days. Over the years, after the USSR collapsed, we became friends,” Cashman began. “A couple of days ago he made contact with me, said he needed to speak with me as soon as possible; that it was of high importance and that he wanted to meet with me in Nassau.”
“Any particular reason why the Bahamas instead of somewhere on the mainland U.S.?”
“We had a few ‘adventures’ together there in the past,” Cashman replied with a slight smile. “He knew I could easily get to this little spot on the beach we’d both frequented back in the day; that no one would know of the place but the two of us. As soon as I could arrange it, I slipped away from my staff in Atlanta and flew on down to see what was on his mind. He gave me these files and he warned me to watch my back. These people, whoever the hell they may be, aren’t taking any chances now that they're this close to pulling it off. He's lost a few of his people trying to track this down from his side. He suspects it won’t be long before they make the attempt to kill him.
“Tonight,” Cashman tugged the blanket closer against a sudden chill, “they definitely tried to kill me. No one knew that I was going to be on that jet. And yet, just a few hours ago, somebody with some very high connections to our own military ordered my plane to be shot out of the sky.”
Jack shot a look at his brother who grimly nodded confirmation.
“Jack, while we were pulling these two out of the water, some of my men investigated a second crash site and they came back with this.”
Steve reached under the table and pulled out a scrap of metal with the words U.S. Navy painted on it. Jack had been around his brother long enough to recognize an authentic piece of a Navy jet when he saw it.
“While we were waiting for you to get here, I sent a man in, very quietly,” Steve explained, “to check on any flight ops anywhere on the eastern seaboard tonight. No bases and none of the ships within range of us had anything up in the air tonight anywhere near the area, and no planes, military or civilian, have been reported as being missing.”
“I know the man who gave me this material,” Cashman interjected quietly. “If he says this is on the level, then you should consider it as such.”
“Even though you could be the very operative intended to make it to the Oval Office and betray this country?” Jack accused coolly.
Kliene ignored his injuries enough to lurch out of chair in an outraged protest that matched the volume of the sub’s captain, but Jack and Cashman merely held their ground and calmly regarded each other.
“This could very well be a false flag operation, Senator,” Jack remarked quietly after the protests faded to a stunned silence. “It would explain why your plane was not shot down by a missile, which surely would have resulted in a catastrophic explosion that you could not have walked away from alive. You are shot out of the sky,” Jack carefully gauged Cashman’s reaction to his accusations, “and are miraculously rescued by a Navy sub and able to return to D.C. to shout conspiracy. Perhaps even to accuse your own running mate of being in league with the conspirators and, with an outraged country demanding justice, you are sworn in as next President of the United States. Then, finally in the position of power needed to complete the plot, you fulfill your destiny and the America as we know it exists no more.”
“That is one plausible interpretation,” Cashman allowed in a tone that seemed far too calm under the circumstances, “but you certainly credit me with a little more nerve than I believe I would admit to in taking the kind of risk of crashing into the sea. I have no proof to offer you right now, Agent Del Rio, but I can and do assure you that I am not their operative.”
The room was deadly quiet as Cashman locked gazes with his accuser, who in turn held his ground against the shared outrage of the others, searching the older man’s face for any clue of duplicity in his expression.
“Knowing what I do about you, sir,” Jack finally said to break the heavy silence, “I would be hard pressed to believe otherwise.”
“Thank you,” Cashman said. “And remind me never to play poker with you in the future, young man. I get the distinct feeling that I was just read like an open book.”
“Which leaves us with three possibilities as to whom it actually is we are up against,” Jack said with a slight grin, acknowledging Cashman’s compliment. “The first is the current resident of the White House, which is possible but highly unlikely.”
“Why not?” Kliene asked, as stunned at this latest accusation as the earlier one against Cashman.
“If it was him, they'd have made their move long ago,” Jack replied quickly. “There is no need to wait around once their man, or woman, is in power. In fact, they can't afford to wait and run the risk of someone finding them out and trying to stop them. No, if I were the sitting president, I doubt any of us would be here talking about it tonight. Which leaves us with either your running mate or the man they name to take your place, once your ‘death’ tonight has become official, as our possible conspirator. At any rate, it is a starting point to work from.”
“What do you mean ‘a start’, Jack?” Captain Del Rio demanded. “You find out which one of them it is and stop them.”
“Steve, whoever is running this show it's not actually Arthur or whoever Cashman's replacement is, even if they think they are. That operative's only job was getting elected into the Oval Office. Once that has been accomplished, his or her usefulness is over. That is when the real players will step in and take over. So whoever they are, they’ll be running as low of a profile as they possibly can right now.
“The other problem is we have no proof of anyone’s direct involvement on this side. If I can't uncover this conspiracy and everyone who is behind it, while getting enough proof to make it stick in court, I might add, it will be far too late to do any of us any good.”
“Why?” asked Cashman.
“Because this thing is set up to move very quickly,” Jack answered. “I'd bet that within seventy-two hours, probably even less than that, after the inauguration they will make their move to take power. The only country in the world right now that might have a chance at threatening the resulting new superpower is China, even if you believe that they might not welcome a changed America that is more aligned to their way of thinking. With the type of long-range planning we've seen so far, I imagine that China would be quickly neutralized, or brought into the fold. And with China out of the picture, there'd be no one left to stand in their way.” Jack paused for a moment as the dark future he was proposing sunk in to everyone else in the room. “Oh, there'd be protests. There’d even be an open rebell
ion or two, but before a full decade had passed that old communist dream of total world domination would have finally and firmly taken hold.”
“The military wouldn’t stand for it,” Steve protested.
“Are you sure? There have been a lot of major shake ups in the top brass in all of the branches lately. Given what we’ve seen in these files tonight, doesn’t it make you start to rethink some of those sudden resignations just a little bit?”
Cashman, who served on the Armed Services Committee, found himself nodding his head in agreement. A few too many of the recent resignations had seemingly come from nowhere. Del Rio’s theory certainly, and uncomfortably, explained more than one of them.
“What can we do?” Cashman asked, almost too quietly to be heard.
“You? Not a single thing right now, sir. You and Mr. Kliene are dead and you're both going to stay that way until I can sort everything out. Steve, can you and this boat disappear?”
“That is our job,” the Captain replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Because after I leave here tonight, you and this boat need to vanish with these two along for the ride. Our only advantage at this point is that they think he's dead and that the information on this drive is sitting on the bottom of the ocean with his corpse.”
“Surely there's something more we can do other than run away and hide?” Cashman replied, outraged at the thought when his country was in grave danger.
“Right now, that's the only thing you can do. If you go up there and yell ‘conspiracy,’ with no proof to back you up, they can paint you as a nut case and replace you without protest. Assuming they don’t just decide to shoot you on sight and claim you were an imposter, insisting the ‘real’ Cashman died in a plane crash. No,” Jack sighed, “I've got the ball now, and our best advantage at this time is that they don’t know that, so let me run with it. I need you to stand by in case I run out of time up there. If I do, that is when I want you to show up and start yelling foul.”
“But you said—” Cashman said, confused.
“It’s the timing, Senator,” Jack broke in. “If you return from the dead after they've buried you, and just before the inauguration, it'll throw everything into total chaos. In the meantime, in all of the confusion, someone just might panic and make a mistake that we can take advantage of.”
“Remind me not to play chess with you either,” Cashman said with a smile. “You have a very devious mind. Good luck, Jack.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jack said, shaking Cashman’s extended hand and motioning for his brother to walk him out back to the conning tower.
“Steve,” Jack said after they had left the room. “I meant every word of what I said in there. You can bet they might have had an eye on what happened out here. They might already know you've got him on board and they’ll be coming after you. That piece of fighter jet you found says they control enough of the military to use it against anyone who gets in their way.”
“We’re way ahead of you, little brother,” Steve replied. “Once you’re ashore I'm going to find a nice, deep hole in the water to hide my boat in.”
“Sounds good,” Jack replied. “But don’t even wait that long. As soon as I shove off in the raft get below as fast as this boat can get there. And listen to me, you had better be prepared in case something goes wrong.”
Steve stopped in his tracks, spinning around to face his brother.
“I mean it,” Jack said firmly. “If I can’t find a way to stop this, or if I screw this up somehow, it'll be up to you and Cashman to stop this.”
“Alright, kid,” Steve relented. “I’ve been trained for this kind of thing you know. But I don’t much care for you going off solo. You won’t know who to trust, and everyone you even so much as look at up there could be one of them.”
“Your training is against a known enemy, but not against people who are supposed to be on your side. This is a game that is played by an entirely different set of rules. What I do can be done even when it is actually just one lone man against the world. I’m not saying it will be easy, but I can do it. In the meantime you be careful out here, you hear me?”
“We’ll be fine,” Steve said, relenting. “And you watch your back up there, too. I have no intentions of being the last of the Del Rio clan.”
“Me neither,” Jack replied soberly.
The two brothers resumed the trek through the boat, pausing only long enough for Steve to give the order to surface again. By the time they reached the outer hatch, the Los Angeles had breached the surface and the XO and the two seamen waited with rubber boat Jack had traveled out on. The Captain ordered the two sailors back into the sub as Jack stepped into the small craft.
“Sir?” the XO asked. “I though your brother didn’t care for boats. Shouldn’t someone go with him to bring it back?”
“I said I didn’t care for them,” Jack said as he started the engine with practiced ease. “I never said I didn’t know how to operate one.”
“Don’t worry,” the Captain said, addressing the XO with a chuckle he didn’t really feel, “my kid brother can out sail me on his worst day. As soon as he’s is clear, dive the boat and get us to our nice little cubby hole as fast as possible, then rig for silent running until further notice.”
“Aye, sir,” the XO replied as he stepped back inside to carry out his orders.
The Captain waved goodbye to Jack as he pulled away, following his XO inside the tower.
Jack headed back to the shore, turning around just once to watch as the Los Angeles quietly slipped below the waves. He had talked a good game back there in the wardroom, but deep down he was extremely worried. If any of them had bothered to ask for the odds he would give for his own survival, they’d have gotten a very low number in reply.
On a dark sea in a moonless night Jack’s mood was as dark as the clouds on his immediate horizon. For a moment, just before he turned back to resume his course to the shore, he had the uneasy feeling that he just might have seen his brother for the very last time.
SIX
It was highly unusual for three of them to meet together anywhere aside from the prearranged time and place; operation safety and security had dictated that be a nearly unbreakable rule between them. But given what Cavanaugh had learned in the dark hours of the morning, he felt a breakfast meeting in a more public setting was required. Even if the said breakfast consisted of three cups of bitter coffee to wash down a box of very cheap donuts in the meeting room of Wells’ office.
Charles’ office was the best alternative under the circumstances as no one was expected to be in the office for another three hours at the earliest. Such hastily convened clandestine meetings were nothing new for Cavanaugh in his line of work, while Wells seemed inconvenienced at the early wake-up call that he’d received. Soors, on the other hand, and true to form, was anything but.
“How did this happen?” Soors demanded in a tone no one used on Cavanaugh. “I thought the area had been properly secured?”
“So did we all,” Cavanaugh replied calmly, letting Soors’ tone go unchallenged. He’d spent the last few hours since his early morning visitor had departed speaking with his military contacts, trying to figure out why the sub had turned up where and when it had, and where it had gotten off to. “For whatever reason, the Los Angeles was well southwest of where she was supposed to be and up on the surface. The best guess we’ve been able to come up with is that she had to surface for some sort of mechanical issue and the Captain felt it was minor enough not to report in.
“Once they pulled Cashman out of the water, he must have relayed to the Captain whatever it was Karpov told him in Nassau, which was enough to convince the Captain to decide to run silent until he can figure out what his next step will be.”
“Those damn Del Rio’s,” Soors raged, drawing an amused chuckle out of Wells. “What exactly do you find funny about this situation, Charles?”
“I was just wondering how much more of a thorn in your side the Del Rio brothers would
be if they actually knew your history with their family?” Wells jibed.
Soors glared daggers at Wells who merely responded with a smile that was more insulting than any uttered slur could have been.
“One way or the other,” Cavanaugh interrupted before another round of open verbal warfare could erupt between his compatriots. “The Los Angeles must be found and the threat she poses to us eliminated.”
“And the younger Del Rio?” Soors asked, ignoring the raised eyebrow of Wells.
“We have someone close to him that will alert us if his brother even attempts to reach out to him,” Cavanaugh said. “For now, we do nothing about him. In fact, an attempt to do anything to him might be counter-intuitive as he would be investigating as to the reason why.”
“Perhaps some preemptive action is needed,” Soors said. “Dead men can’t take phone calls.”
“It’s a bit early in the morning to be so bloodthirsty isn’t it, Georgina?” Wells queried. “Even for you.”
“Charles is correct,” Cavanaugh broke in, heading off the inevitable sharp retort. “We’ve been lucky so far in that no one has put even a part of the puzzle together. If we have an FBI Agent, who is officially connected to the inauguration security team I might add, suddenly turning up dead on the heels of the death of the Vice President-elect, you’ll have just enough conspiracy theorists out there clamoring to make someone start seriously looking into areas that we don’t want looked into right now. We’re too close to our goal to risk that; so much so, we can afford to sit back and see what move the Captain makes and counter it. I suspect that with the assets that we already have in place, we can keep him from doing anything at all until it is far too late. The worst thing we can do right now is to make a rash move that will lead to a fatal mistake on our part.”
“As you two seem to be in agreement,” Soors snapped, “then I will leave it to you both to take care of the matter.”
With that, she rose out of her chair and stormed out of the room. Cavanaugh watched her depart with a lightning thought. Charles is a very stable man; a man who could be reasoned with, worked with, toward a common goal in a calm, effective manner. And he’s also smart enough to protect himself, if matters suddenly turned sour.
Jack Del Rio: Complete Trilogy: Reservations, Betrayals, Endgames Page 27